What Happens in Manchester
by Alexiah Rose
Summary: Because everybody has a post-Reckoning story to tell :
1. Chapter 1

_Are you sick of me yet? I just can't get them out of my head :P_

**What Happens in Manchester...**

Assumpta looked at her watch for about the fifteenth time in as many minutes. She didn't know if it was going too fast or too slow, but she was sure it must be broken. She tried to shake off the awful, tugging thought that yesterday had in fact been nothing more than last night's dream.

He had left far too early, in her opinion. When the fuse box had finally succumbed to its long anticipated doom, and given up the fight for good, Assumpta wasn't even angry. In truth, she was thrilled, because she knew it would drive all the customers home. That would leave her and Peter alone, with nothing to interrupt them or cut their time short.

But he didn't stay. He went to walk Brendan home. Assumpta made no effort to hide her disappointment, and hoped the candles were casting enough light over her face to allow Peter fully appreciate her look of disapproval. But Brendan had wanted to talk about Siobhan and the baby. What was he to do? Tell Brendan sorry, but he'd much prefer to spend the evening enjoying the soft firelight with the publican than helping with his problems? He was still a priest, after all. Even if he wasn't, Assumpta mused, he would still make sure he was there to support his friend. That was the sort of man he was, and she couldn't be mad at him for that... Well, not _very_ mad for _very_ long, anyway.

She had gone to bed early, wanting to reach tomorrow as quickly as possible, but sleep proved elusive as usual. It was different now, however. She didn't struggle to dispel all thoughts of Peter, and these thoughts were no longer painful. She replayed over and over the conversations they had had that day, her heart pounding at just the memory of his words... 'I love you.' His eyes lit up when he told her this, as though uttering these words to her gave him more pleasure than anything else in the world. Assumpta realised, with a pang of panicked guilt, that he had so beautifully professed all his feelings to her, but she hadn't told him anything of how she felt. She vowed to do so tomorrow, and fell asleep smiling, as she thought of the things she might say.

But tomorrow was here, late morning sun was streaming through the open door and windows, and the lunch crowd would soon be in. And there was no sign of him. Assumpta sighed, and set about preparing sandwiches.

As time droned on, Assumpta became more and more agitated, abandoning all thoughts of saying sweet things to him when he came. The lunch crowd came and went, leaving only Donal and Liam, and Eamon with his Diet Coke. This was when Peter finally showed his face.

Assumpta looked up to see him standing in the doorway, wearing his priest's collar and a wide grin. She didn't smile back, but merely raised her eyebrows at him, and his grin turned to a grimace. Day one and he was already in trouble? Well, it was Assumpta, after all.

Peter followed her into the kitchen, and waited for her to turn to face him before trying his smile again, and offering a bright 'Hiya'.  
'Hi. Where have you been?'  
She knew she sounded like a clingy girlfriend, but _really,_ she should have at least had word from him. She had thought he might have changed his mind, run away...  
'Cilldargan.'  
She continued to look at him expectantly.  
'I went to see Father Mac,' Peter continued. 'I wanted to make sure everything was sorted out by the next time I saw you. I wanted you to know that I'm serious about this, that I won't let you down.'  
At this explanation, Assumpta softened a little, and leaned back against the cupboard.  
'So, how did he react?'  
'Well, needless to say, he wasn't surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.'  
'Did he try to talk you out of it?'  
'Not really. I think he could see that I'd made up my mind... And he was probably frightened you'd come and beat him up if he tried to talk me out of it.'  
'Damn right I would,' Assumpta stated, finally returning Peter's smile. 'So what happens now?'  
'Ah,' Peter said, looking down at the ground in a way that made Assumpta certain she would not like what was coming. 'Well, I'm going to announce that I'm leaving at Mass tomorrow.'  
'Are you going to tell them why?'  
'Yeah,' Peter said, trying to sound sure of himself, 'there's no point trying to deceive them. They'll find out soon enough, those that haven't worked it out already.'  
Assumpta was shocked that this was all happening so quickly, so cleanly. It was too easy...

'There's just one thing...' Peter was looking sheepishly over at her.  
'Yes?'  
'Father Mac wants me to go away for a couple of weeks, just until the initial shock blows over... less drama that way.'

Assumpta gave a scornful, disbelieving little laugh.  
'You're leaving me again.'  
'No, I -'  
'Where are you gonna go, Peter? Where is he sending you? A special retreat for priests that are so far gone they need to be beaten back to their senses?'  
'What? No -'  
'And you're just going to leave me here to deal with all their crap? You know it's _me_ they'll come to, not you! You're just the young, naive little priest, and I'm the wicked seductress who -'  
_'Assumpta,'_ he said forcefully, stepping forward to take both her hands in his, 'listen to me.'  
The stubborn voice in Assumpta's head was screaming at her to pull her hands away, but the sweetness of his touch turned her thoughts to nonsense and her resolve to dust. She looked up, and met his earnest gaze.  
'I want to take you with me,' he said softly.  
'What? On retreat? That'll go down well...' she quipped weakly.  
Peter smiled. 'I'm not going on retreat. I'm going back to Manchester. It works out well, actually, because my brothers need my help going through Mum's stuff.'  
'And you want me to go with you?'  
'Well, yeah... If you want to, I mean. You're not exactly going to be doing great business here, only opening during the daylight. And you'll have to close while the electricians work on the place, anyway. So I thought it would be perfect.'

The idea of spending her first weeks with Peter also with his entire family sounded more terrifying than perfect to Assumpta, but he looked so pleased with his idea... and it would be good to get out of Ballykissangel while the gossip mills ran their course.  
'What do you say?' he asked, gently touching her cheek.  
Assumpta smiled, and tried to sound confident as she answered, 'Sure.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Outside the door, Assumpta shifted her weight from foot to foot, and shook her hands nervously. Suddenly aware of what a ridiculous spectacle she'd make for any passersby, she decided to face the music. She knocked loudly, and, after a noisy struggle to get the stroller out of the way, Niamh answered.

'Assumpta, hi!' she said brightly, standing aside to let her friend in.  
'Hi,' Assumpta replied. 'And hello, wee fella,' she added, reaching out to take Kieran from Niamh, who willingly gave him up.  
'We're off to Mass in twenty minutes, but I s'pose that's time enough for a cup of tea.'

They moved into the kitchen, where Assumpta sat down with Kieran while Niamh made the tea. Trying to work out where to begin, Assumpta gave Kieran an exaggerated look of despair, to which he giggled loudly. Niamh looked over from the kettle and smiled.  
'God only knows why, but that baby just adores you. I think the only person he likes more is Father Clifford.'  
And there it was – the opening. Did it have to come so soon in the conversation? Couldn't they have just made small talk for a while? Assumpta sighed in resignation.  
'Actually, Niamh, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.'  
'What is?' Niamh asked absently, bringing the teas over and sitting down across from Assumpta.  
'Father Clifford...'  
'Oh? What about him?'

Looking at Niamh's innocent and curious expression, Assumpta wondered whether she was really oblivious to it all. Assumpta had never mentioned anything to her... and Niamh had had a lot on her mind lately. Peter had said that dogs on the street knew how he felt about Assumpta, but maybe new mothers were an entirely different thing...

'I wanted to tell you now... so you could hear it from me, rather than hear it at Mass tonight with everyone else.'  
'Hear what?'  
'Well, Father Clifford... I mean, Peter... the thing is... he and I... well, we're... together.'  
There. It was said. Awkwardly and disjointedly, yes, but it was said. Although, Niamh was evidently not comprehending.  
'How do you mean 'together'?'  
'You know, Niamh. _Together'_  
Niamh blinked.  
'What? Like... going out? Boyfriend and girlfriend?'  
Assumpta laughed weakly. 'God, Niamh, you make it sound like we're twelve.'  
Niamh just stared at her. Assumpta shifted Kieran awkwardly from one knee to the other.

When finally Niamh spoke, Assumpta wished she hadn't.  
'What about Leo?'  
Assumpta rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing red with exasperation.  
'Niamh, if you like Leo so much, why don't you marry him?' she spat.  
'He loves you, Assumpta.'  
'So does Peter.'  
'He's a _priest._'  
'Is he really? Well, that's a tad inconvenient, isn't it? Never mind, I'll be off home.'  
Assumpta stood, plonked Kieran onto Niamh's lap, and headed for the door.

'Wait,' Niamh called.  
Assumpta paused. She heard Niamh sigh.  
'Are you happy, Assumpta?'  
'_Yes_,' she stated emphatically.  
Resigned, Niamh gave a half smile. 'Won't you sit back down then?'  
Assumpta complied, and waited for her friend to make the next move. Niamh looked at her watch, then spoke, now in excited, girlish tones.  
'Right, you've got ten minutes. Tell me everything.'  
Assumpta grinned.  
'Well, it all started when I picked him up on his way to Ballyk...'

And so, Assumpta told Niamh the story of how she had come to fall in love with the most unlikely man in the world. Niamh listened intently, with occasional interjections of 'Oh my' and 'He didn't!' and 'What? _Here? _In my _kitchen?'._

When Niamh eventually did leave for Mass, she did so with a much more positive attitude toward Ballykissangel's new development, and Assumpta was very glad to know that she and Peter had at least one friend on their side.

* * *

Upstairs in her bedroom, Assumpta tried to read. She must not look at the clock again, she told herself, until she finished the chapter. Two seconds later, she tossed the book away in frustration, glanced at the clock, and collapsed back onto the pillows.

She contemplated packing for Manchester, but, in this state of mind, she'd most likely end up packing ten scarves and no shoes. She imagined what conversations were taking place below in Fitzgerald's, and felt a wave of gratitude to Niamh for agreeing to man the bar after evening Mass.

Everyone would know by now. Even those who didn't attend the Mass would surely have had a scandalised phone call from a friend. Assumpta didn't know why, but the thought made her feel afraid, guilty... But she hadn't don't anything wrong! Nor had Peter. All they had done was fall in love... And wasn't love a beautiful and sacred thing? She feared that many in the community would not quite see it that way.

Where the heck was Peter? What was he doing? Was he bailed up, being lectured by Kathleen Hendley? Assumpta wished he'd at least call, just so she'd know that everything was okay... Besides, they were supposed to be leaving the country tomorrow, and she had not had evidence of even a hint of a plan. She was just about to pick up the phone to call him herself when Niamh rapped on the open door.

'Peter's downstairs.'  
'What? In the bar?'  
Niamh shook her head.  
'In the kitchen. He sort of snuck in through the back door.'  
'Oh right. Thanks.'  
Assumpta jumped up, and moved quickly towards the stairs. She paused, about to ask Niamh how everything was going in the pub, when she decided she'd rather not know, and continued downstairs into the kitchen.

Peter was standing by the table, nervously drumming his fingers on the back of a chair.  
'Well, look at you, sneaking around dark alleyways in the night just to see me,' Assumpta said playfully, hoping to keep the conversation light for just a little while.  
Peter smiled.  
'Sorry I waited so long to come; I didn't want to risk running into anybody on the street.'  
'Ah, you big baby.'  
'Says she who spent the evening hiding in her room,' he said, raising his eyebrows.  
'Shut up.'

Assumpta moved closer to him, and took both his hands in hers. It was the first time, Peter noted with joy, that she had been the one to instigate contact between them.  
'How did it go?' she asked tentatively.  
Peter let out a long, exhausted breath.  
'It went well, I think... I hope... It's hard to say.'  
Assumpta nodded. She wanted to know more, but she knew she shouldn't press him too much tonight. Still, she couldn't help but ask, 'You're not... having second thoughts, though?'  
He squeezed her hands tighter, and looked her intensely in the eyes.  
'Never. I should have done this long ago, Assumpta. It would have saved us all a lot of hurt, I think. I'm sorry I ran away from you... It's just that the strength of my feelings for you scared me to death. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing in fleeing from them... Do you understand?'  
He looked pleadingly down at her, willing her to understand, to forgive him.  
'I do understand, Peter,' Assumpta assured him. 'Still,' she added after a pause, 'you kind of broke my heart...'

Once again, Peter wondered how something could sound at the same time exhilarating and depressing. The thought that he had enough of her heart to break it filled him with elation, but the thought that he had failed to take proper care of it filled him with remorse and sorrow.

He let go of one of her hands, freeing his to brush the hair away from her face.  
'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. 'But I am going to spend the rest of forever mending it for you.'  
Assumpta had never thought that any mere mortal would be capable of making her knees weak. Apparently, she was wrong. She looked up at Peter in amazement.  
'Oh, you _are_ very good at this, aren't you?'  
'Am I?' Peter grinned triumphantly.  
'You are,' Assumpta confirmed.

Encouraged, Peter released Assumpta's other hand in favour of putting his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him. He leaned in to kiss her, but paused a millimetre from her lips to murmur, 'I love you'. When they finally did kiss, it was with all the feelings, memories, hopes and longings of the past three years. It was with all the gratitude for the present, and the dreams for the future. It was with all the pure love that neither of them had ever thought they'd have.

You can forget weak knees; the only thing keeping Assumpta's body from collapsing onto the ground was Peter's strong grip on her waist.


	3. Chapter 3

_No reviews on the last chapter. Did you not like it? That's cool; I'd love to know why, though. Maybe I can improve it :) Anyway, here's the next bit!_

**Chapter Three**

Four o'clock in the morning. Assumpta at four o'clock in the morning... It sounded like an extraordinarily bad idea to Peter, but, when you leave booking flights until the day before, what can you expect?

One look at her when she opened the door confirmed Peter's suspicions that he was already skating on thin ice for no other reason than that it was, well, four o'clock in the morning. He decided it was best not to attempt to engage her in any conversation beyond 'Good morning' and 'Let me take your bags'.

Assumpta slept in the passenger seat of Peter's car all the way to Dublin. Peter found it very difficult to keep his eyes on the road rather than on her face, and he smiled when, every now and then, she gave a small, contented sigh. The past couple of days had gone by in such a blur that he had never been entirely sure that it was all real. But, now, in the peaceful quiet of the morning, it was beginning to sink in. She was really there; she was really his; and he was taking her home.

At the airport, Assumpta sat wishing she could go back to sleep, but the damn lights were too bright, there were too many people, and that stupid woman kept announcing things over the sound system in an inappropriately chirpy voice. Meanwhile, Peter was reading to her from pieces of paper, trying to solicit her help in working out which trains and buses to catch once they reached Heathrow. His words sounded more like buzzing, or like that teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoon. Suddenly, they stopped. He was looking at her expectantly... Had he asked her a question?

'What?' she blurted. 'Look, Peter, it's not yet six o'clock. Do you really think I want to discuss logistics right now?'  
Peter looked dejected, but, before he could reply, that stupid woman announced that their flight would be delayed another fifteen minutes.  
Frustrated, Assumpta slumped back into her seat, folding her arms across her chest.  
'Remind me again why I agreed to this?'

Without a word, Peter set his papers on the chair beside him, stood up and walked away.  
Assumpta groaned, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. When she looked up, she saw that an old lady seated across from her was staring reproachfully over her knitting. Assumpta stared stonily back at her.  
'That's a good man you've got there,' said the old lady quietly.  
'I know that,' spat Assumpta defensively.  
After a few seconds, the lady curtly replied, 'Yes, dear, but does he know you know that?'  
Assumpta rolled her eyes, and looked off in the other direction. Silly old bat should mind her own business.

When Peter hadn't returned ten minutes later, Assumpta began to worry. Taking her home to meet his family was a big deal for him, and she'd given the impression that she didn't want to go. She must have really hurt him... She was about to get up and go search for him when he appeared. He did not look hurt, however.

He strode over to her, clutching a takeaway coffee cup and a white paper bag. Sitting down beside her, he handed over the cup. Then, he looked tentatively at the bag, then at her face, and said, 'I wasn't sure if you liked chocolate or banana muffins, so I got you both.'

Assumpta's heart flooded with warmth, and she felt strangely as though she might cry. After the way she spoke to him... He wasn't even upset. He understood exactly what she needed. He understood _her_ so perfectly, like no one else had ever done.

'Well, I like banana muffins.'  
'Terrific,' Peter grinned, opening the bag eagerly, 'I'll have the chocolate one, then.'  
Smiling a smile that was obviously caused by more than muffins and coffee, Assumpta leaned over and kissed Peter tenderly on the cheek.  
'Thank you, Peter.'

In the seat opposite, the old lady smiled triumphantly at her knitting.

* * *

The rest of the trip passed more smoothly once Assumpta had had her coffee. On the plane, they played two-handed Patience with a deck of cards Peter had brought; on the train, they read their respective books, Assumpta resting her head on Peter's shoulder; but, in the taxi, Peter watched Assumpta wring her hands nervously.

'Will your brothers be at the house when we arrive?' she asked.  
'No, we'll all meet up for dinner at Mark's place at seven... If that's okay with you.'  
Assumpta looked at her watch. It was almost six already.  
'Sure,' she said, with a little too much false confidence.  
A horrified expression came across her face as something occurred to her.  
'Peter, do they know about me?'  
Peter laughed.  
'Of course they know about you.'  
Assumpta nodded.  
'Right... yeah, of course.'  
Peter took her hand.  
'Stop worrying; they'll love you.'

When they arrived, Peter paid the cab driver, while Assumpta stood surveying the house. It was a small, sweet house, which looked more like a cottage. Noticing red Middlesbrough curtains through an upstairs window, she smiled. No prizes for guessing whose room that was.

She helped Peter in with the bags, which they dumped on the sitting room floor.  
'Well,' Peter said, gesturing grandly to their surroundings, 'This is it. It's not much, but it's home.'  
Looking around, Assumpta nodded.  
'Yeah. It looks like a home.'

The sitting room was warm and inviting, with large dark wooden bookcases, comfy chairs and a huge fireplace. Walking over to the fireplace, Assumpta tentatively inspected the three model aeroplanes on the mantle. The first two were clearly made from the same kit, though they were not identical. One was almost flawlessly made, painted and polished, with 'Mark' printed neatly on the wing. The second plane was sloppier, and looked as though it had spent more time being played with outside than displayed on the mantle. Hastily scrawled on its wing was 'Peter'. The third plane had obviously been made by a younger child, as it was a much simpler construction. It was messily painted all the colours of the rainbow, and written on its wing, in what Assumpta could only assume was Peter's mother's flowing hand, was 'Joey'.

On either side of the fireplace stood the two bookcases. One was filled with a rather impressive collection of volumes, mostly classics, except for the lowest shelf, which was stocked with brightly coloured children's books. The other bookcase held photographs and other memories. Taking pride of place was a large picture of Peter and his mother at his ordination. Assumpta felt a surge of sympathy for Peter, thinking of how very recently it was that he lost his mum.

Peter came over to stand beside Assumpta, pointed at the picture, and announced, 'That's her – me old mum.'  
They studied the picture together in silence for a few moments, before Assumpta quietly spoke.  
'I know how hard it must be for you, now that she's gone...'  
'Yeah,' Peter solemnly replied, 'it is hard. But I know she's gone home, and that makes me happy.'  
Assumpta smiled. She admired Peter's faith; she didn't always understand it, but she admired it all the same. Looking back at the photo, she said, 'She must have been very proud of you.'  
'She was,' Peter grinned.  
An awful, sinking feeling entered Assumpta's stomach as she wondered what Peter's mum, so proud of her son the priest, would think of her leading him to give it up.

'Come on,' Peter said cheerfully, 'I'll show you to your room.'  
He picked up Assumpta's bags, and headed for the staircase. Assumpta followed. When they reached the top, he stopped outside a closed door.  
'You'll be sleeping in my room,' he informed her.  
Assumpta raised her eyebrows.  
'Will I just?'  
_'And_,' Peter continued, 'I'll be sleeping in Mark's old room.'  
'Ah.'  
Assumpta wasn't quite sure whether she was relieved or disappointed...

While Peter went to bring his own bags upstairs, Assumpta arranged her things, and inspected Peter's childhood bedroom. It was what she expected, really – Middlesbrough bed sheets, curtains, posters and figurines, his own football boots thrown carelessly into the corner by the closet, a Bible and some Rosary Beads on his bedside table...

Peter called out to ask if she wanted a cup of tea, which, of course, she did. They drank their tea from his mother's china cups while they sat together on the sofa going through a book of Peter's baby photos which Assumpta had – to Peter's dismay – quickly located on the bookcase. Assumpta was so busy laughing hysterically at the photos, and telling Peter how cute he was ('What do you mean _was?' _he cried, trying to sound deeply offended) that she forgot to worry about their dinner with Peter's brothers until it was time to go...


	4. Chapter 4

_singformemymeado, it's coming - stay tuned ;)  
Eninaj, no promises haha :P  
_

**Chapter Four**

As Assumpta stood staring at Mark's heavy, dark green door, Peter gave her hand a squeeze.  
'You ready?' he asked.  
By way of an answer, she reached over and pressed the doorbell. How bad could it be? They were Peter's brothers, after all.

When the door opened, Peter shepherded her inside. It was only once standing in the kitchen that she got a proper look at the man who had welcomed them in.  
'Assumpta, this is my brother Mark.'  
The man standing before her was tall and strong, with raven hair, bright blue eyes, and Peter's smile. As he took her hand and greeted her sincerely with, 'It's such a pleasure to meet you', Assumpta struggled to suppress her less than indifferent reaction. She failed, however, and the slight catch in her breath did not go unnoticed by Peter.  
'Where's Joe?' Peter hastily asked.  
'Lounge,' Mark replied.

Peter took hold of Assumpta's hand, and led her through to the lounge, where a boy of about seventeen sat watching a football match on the telly.  
'Hi, Joe.'  
'Hiya,' replied Joe, not taking his eyes off the telly.  
'Joe, I want you to meet Assumpta.'  
'Hi,' came his greeting, as the referee awarded a free kick to Tottenham.  
_'Josiah,'_ said Peter, reproachful of his little brother's poor manners.  
Joe sighed, turned around to look at Assumpta, and repeated, 'Hi'.  
'Hi,' she replied. 'Good game?' she added feebly.  
'Rubbish. Ref's wearing a Tottenham jersey under his stripes.'  
'Oh right.'

Before Peter could apologise for Joe's distinctly seventeen-year-old behaviour, a herd of elephants came thundering down the stairs. At least, that's what it sounded like. In fact, it was merely one small girl of five or six in blonde pigtails and a green and gold Catholic school uniform. Assumpta was completely taken aback. Peter had not mentioned anything about a child, had he?  
'Hello, munchkin!' Peter exclaimed, kneeling down to give her a big hug.  
'Hi, Uncle Peter.'  
Releasing her, he pointed up at Assumpta.  
'This is my friend Assumpta.'  
'Your _friend?'_ the girl said to Peter, 'That's not what my daddy said. He said she's your _girlfriend!'_  
She giggled, and then turned to Assumpta. 'Hi anyway!'  
Assumpta smiled. There was definitely something of Peter in this cheeky little girl.  
'Hi there. What's your name?'  
The girl looked off into the distance, concentrating for a moment, as though trying to recall something learned off by heart. She then introduced herself as 'Henrietta Georgiana Mary Elizabeth Clifford, but you can call me Henrie'.  
Assumpta let out a small laugh.  
'Yes, Henrie, I think I will!'

Mark came to join them in the lounge. Smiling at Assumpta, he said, 'I see you've met everybody... Dinner should only be about five minutes. I hope you don't mind – I've ordered pizzas. I didn't finish work 'til late, otherwise I'd have cooked...'  
'Be thankful,' Joe piped up from his sofa, 'The only thing worse than Mark's cooking is Peter's.'  
'Shut up, Joe,' said Mark and Peter together.

'Hey, Sumpta -'  
'It's Ah-sumpta, Henrie,' interrupted Mark.  
'Ahhh-sumpta, would you like to see my new dolly bed? Daddy got it for me for being brave at the dentist.'  
'Henrie, I don't really think Assumpta needs to see your dolly bed...'  
But Henrie had already seized Assumpta's hand.  
'It's fine,' Assumpta assured Mark, as the two disappeared upstairs.

In the five minutes before the pizza arrived, Assumpta learned from Henrie that she five and three quarters, that her favourite colour was purple, that her mummy had gone away to Australia when she was two years old, that one day she was going to be a very clever doctor like her daddy, that she loved her Uncle Peter, and that she missed her granny lots and lots, but not as much as Uncle Joey, who was grumpy all the time since he had moved in with them when she died. Assumpta could tell that Peter's niece was a very bright little girl, and she had no doubt in her mind that Henrie could grow up to be a very clever doctor indeed. Talking with Henrie made Assumpta feel a lot more at ease, which was odd, because she wasn't exactly renowned for being good with children, the way some women are... Maybe it was because Henrie, eager to have a female ally in a life full of boys, had accepted her so readily. Assumpta knew she had already won over at least one member of Peter's family.

Dinner itself was a lot less painful than it could have been. Nobody interrogated Assumpta, as she had feared they might. Mostly, Mark bombarded her with embarrassing stories about Peter – all of which Peter insisted were lies – and Henrie told them all about her school project on the 'Locknest Monster'. Joe ate quickly and quietly, impatient to get back to watching the match, and answered Peter's questions about college and his friends in remarkably short sentences.

As pleasant as the evening was, Assumpta was glad when it was time to leave. She was exhausted, and, weird as it was, she missed Peter. They had both been focusing their attention all night on his brothers and Henrie, and she was keen to spend the last few minutes of the day with alone with Peter.

Back at Peter's mother's house, Assumpta volunteered to make tea. Bringing the tea into the sitting room, she placed Peter's on the end table beside the chair into which he'd collapsed upon arrival. She took hers over to the fireplace, where she again observed the aeroplanes, thinking about how well each plane reflected its creator's character.

'So,' she said to Peter, 'did I disgrace you?'  
He smiled.  
'They adore you – especially Henrie. It was like Christmas for her, having a girl to talk to.'  
'She's lovely... I don't think Joe liked me much, though.'  
'Joe doesn't like anything much, at the moment. Mum's death... it hit him hardest. He's still so young.'  
Assumpta nodded her understanding.

Peter stared into his tea for a few moments, then quietly asked, 'What do you think of Mark?'  
'I like him.'  
'I noticed...'  
Assumpta felt a little twinge of guilt.  
'And what's that supposed to mean?'  
'Nothing, just...' Peter made a business of putting his cup of tea down, stalling for time while he thought of what he should say. 'Do you find him attractive?'  
'No,' Assumpta responded, much too quickly.  
Peter raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.  
'Well, I mean...'  
'I should've known,' Peter muttered. 'You know, every single time I have liked a girl, she's decided she prefers Mark. When I was seven years old, I invited Laura Brennan to my birthday party, and she spent the entire time with Mark, learning to ride his stupid skateboard. It's been the same thing ever since then. He always joked that I only became a priest because he kept stealing my girlfriends.'  
Assumpta couldn't help chuckling at this, but Peter looked wounded, and pity washed over her.  
'Oh Peter,' she said, walking over and sitting down on his lap. She put both arms around his neck, and looked him square in the face. 'I am not Laura Brennan, and I have absolutely no desire to learn to ride a skateboard.'  
Her closeness overwhelmed him so that he could do nothing but listen in silence as she continued.  
'I won't insult your intelligence by pretending your brother's not a very good looking guy, and really nice too, but you...' - she paused to run a hand through his hair – 'You're the only one who can make my heart melt and my hands shake just by looking at me with those big eyes of yours. You're the only one whose voice I'll never get tired of hearing, no matter how many stupid things you say. You're kind and sweet and selfless, and I see that when I look at you, and it's the most attractive thing in the world...'  
Peter had never allowed himself to dream that Assumpta would say such things to him, and he simply didn't know how to respond.  
'Plus,' she added casually, 'your arse is much nicer anyway.'  
At this, Peter laughed loudly, looking absolutely scandalised.  
_'Assumpta!'_  
'Well, it is,' she shrugged.

Just as Peter was leaning in to kiss her, they heard a key turn in the front door. They both sprang to their feet, just as Joe appeared in the doorway.  
'Joe! What are you doing here?' asked a flustered Peter.  
'I live here.'  
'You live with Mark.'  
Joe rolled his eyes.  
'Are you telling me I can't even come home for a week while you're here? Why is this family intent on making me insane and homeless as well as orphaned?'

The atmosphere was extremely tense, and Assumpta thought it was a good time for her to leave.  
'I'm gonna head to bed. Goodnight.'  
Peter followed her to the stairs, and gently grabbed her arm.  
'I'm sorry. I'll take him back to Mark's,' he whispered.  
'No, don't. Let him stay. And talk to him, Peter. He needs you.'  
She gave him a quick kiss before going up to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

After having brushed his teeth and sprayed on some deodorant (not the usual early-morning routine, but they weren't married yet!), Peter walked down the stairs, acquiring a distinct spring in his step at the unmistakable smell of bacon. Entering the kitchen, he spotted Assumpta, already dressed, standing at the stove.  
'What is _this?'_ he asked, barely containing his excitement about the prospect of a breakfast consisting of anything more extravagant than grain toast with jam.  
'Breakfast.'  
Grinning, Peter walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. Assumpta found herself suddenly unable to breathe. She knew not how many times she had stood at the bar in Fitzgerald's, imagining how it would feel to have Peter do exactly what he had just done. She closed her eyes, savouring the moment.  
'You made me breakfast,' Peter gushed.  
'Evidently.'  
'But we haven't got any food...'  
'I went to the shop.'  
'You went to the shop,' he said, in the same gushing tone.  
Remembering another time they'd been together in a kitchen, Peter smiled, and began to kiss her in the exact same spot...

'Oh, get a room, would you?' came a positively disgusted voice from behind them.  
Clenching his fists, but forcing a smile onto his face, Peter turned around.  
'Good morning, Joe.'  
Joe looked approvingly at the breakfast laid out on the table. Turning to Assumpta, he asked, 'You do this?'  
'Yeah.'  
'Thanks,' he grunted, not quite managing to hide the hint of a smile forming as he sitting down to a plate.

Joe ate quickly, then headed off to college, leaving Assumpta and Peter to lazily consume a little too much food and a fair few cups of tea. It was only when Peter stood up to start washing the dishes that Assumpta noticed what he was wearing. He had come down in a tight white T-shirt (which was fine – quite wonderful, in fact), but he was also sporting blue pyjama pants illustrated with pictures of the three puppets from The Sooty Show.  
Assumpta snorted.  
'Nice jammies!'  
'Thank you,' he said, beaming, clearly not at all phased by her mockery. 'My mum gave them to me for Christmas.'  
Then, in the interest of making sure Assumpta fully appreciated the value of the pyjama pants, he proceeded to do a little strut about the room to model them.  
'Just clean the dishes, you idiot,' laughed Assumpta, shaking her head at him.

* * *

Mark's days off didn't begin until the next day, so Peter and Assumpta had one more day to themselves before the boys started going through their mother's things. The pair spent the morning doing not much of anything, and, after lunch, Peter took Assumpta out to show her around his old stomping ground. She saw his church and his school, Saint Timothy's, where Henrie was currently in her second year. Before long, they ended up in a large park a few blocks away from home.

Peter and his brothers had spent a lot of time in this park – according to Peter, their mum didn't want them hanging around the house all day, though Assumpta couldn't imagine why – so he had a memory for just about every landmark they passed as they walked along beside the park's man-made lake.

'That's where Mark fell and broke his leg during a three-legged race with the Griffin boys from down the road... That's where Joey took his first steps, on a family picnic... That's where we used to play football. Whoever was on my team always had to be Middlesbrough, because I used to wear my jersey every single day when we came to play. I got it so muddy that Mum gave up on washing it in the end... This is where the girls used to sit and watch us, because we never let them play... Oh, and right here is where I pushed Laura Brennan into the lake. Her big sister had to jump in and save her, 'cause she didn't know how to swim.'  
Assumpta's jaw dropped.  
'Peter, did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason Laura Brennan didn't like you wasn't anything to do with Mark? Is it possible that she didn't like you because you were a grubby little git who wouldn't let girls play football and who pushed her into this dirty lake to almost drown?'  
Peter looked incredulous.  
'Well, I only did it because I liked her!'  
'Oh, of course,' Assumpta nodded, '_man logic.'  
_'I'll throw you in the lake, if you're not careful!' Peter warned, seizing her and holding her dangerously close to the water's edge.  
'No!' she squealed, whacking him repeatedly in the chest until he let her go.  
'I'm starting to think Laura made a lucky escape!' she stated, but she contradicted herself by taking Peter's hand as they continued to walk along.

As the afternoon sun flickered through the leaves, making patterns on the grass, Assumpta was vaguely aware of Peter relaying a sad tale about how he'd spent a whole afternoon in one of these trees for fear of Mark beating him up when he discovered his bike had been scratched. But her mind was thinking of far more serious things. She had very nearly come to a decision...

'This is the bridge where I'd bring little Joey to play pirates. We'd make eye patches out of -'  
'Peter,' Assumpta said, stopping mid-stride and looking very serious, as though something of the utmost urgency had just occurred to her.  
'Yeah?' asked Peter, also stopping, and regarding her with a curious expression.  
Assumpta hesitated for a moment before stating matter-of-factly,  
'I love you.'

Peter actually jumped, as though he'd just taken an unexpected blow. Eyes wide, he only managed to choke out a single word.  
'Really?'  
Assumpta rolled her eyes.  
'No. No, I just get enjoyment out of telling gorgeous Englishmen that I'm in love with them when I'm not. Next on my list is, uh, Colin Firth. Would you kindly direct me to his house?'  
Peter laughed shakily as he took her by the waist and pulled her to him.  
'You are not going anywhere _near_ Colin Firth.'  
He brought his forehead to rest against hers, looking into her eyes.  
'But Assumpta,' he said seriously, 'do you honestly love me?'  
'Yes,' she replied, steadily holding his gaze, 'I honestly love you.'

They were both flying so high, and feeling so much, that their kiss was at great risk of becoming very intense indeed... only, they were both grinning too madly to manage it. So they settled for a long and tight embrace instead.

* * *

When Henrie finished school, she and Mark came to join them in the park, bringing a picnic blanket and a box of biscuits from the shop. Naturally, Assumpta had to play on the swings with Henrie, until they both agreed that it was time for a rest and a biscuit. When they came back and sat down, Peter and Mark were obviously in the middle of planning something.

'Assumpta!' said Mark cheerfully, 'we were just talking about doing something on Friday night. Sort of a... a get together, with all our old mates.'  
Assumpta's stomach twisted itself into a knot. This sounded like a positively awful idea to her...  
Sensing her reaction, Peter assured her that it would be no big deal, just a few people for dinner and drinks. They wouldn't even come indoors; Mum's garden was big enough...  
'C'mon, it'll be fun,' promised Mark. 'I'm sure Peter's dying to show you off to everyone. I know I would be...'  
'Mark!' Peter shot him a very unimpressed look.  
'I'm just saying.'  
'I'm not his new car, Mark,' said Assumpta, choosing to ignore the last park of Mark's comment.  
'No, but... You're gonna have to meet them all anyway, so why not get it over with all at once? Besides, it would be great for us to catch up with everyone, wouldn't it, Peter? We haven't seen them in ages, except for the funeral, which wasn't really the same. What do you say, Assumpta? I'm ready to organise everything. All I need is your blessing.'  
Assumpta sighed.  
'I'll need to buy a new dress...'  
Peter screwed up his face in confusion.  
'Why would you need to buy a – no, wait. Don't tell me – _woman logic.'  
_Mark feigned a hurt expression.  
'You didn't buy a new dress to come and meet us!'  
'Meeting Peter's brothers at a pizza dinner is one thing; meeting all of his friends at a garden party is entirely another.'  
'It's not a _garden party,_' Peter assured her, 'It's just...'  
'A party in the garden,' finished Mark.  
'Whatever. I need a dress.'  
'Me too!' piped up Henrie.  
'No, Henrietta, you d-'  
'You can come shopping with me,' suggested Assumpta, and Henrie looked so elated by the idea that Mark couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

The next day, Assumpta borrowed Peter's mum's car to collect a very excited Henrie from school. Assumpta asked how Henrie's day had been, and the little girl spent the entire twenty minute drive to the shopping centre recounting everything she'd done at school.

Henrie insisted that they shop for Assumpta's dress first, and the child actually proved quite a good shopping companion. She sat patiently outside dressing rooms, waiting to give her opinion on whatever Assumpta tried on. A particularly girly maroon coloured dress which was pulled in at the waist with a white ribbon and then fell freely in light folds of fabric to just above the knee was Henrie's particular favourite. Assumpta wasn't quite so sure. It was certainly not the sort of thing she'd normally wear... partly because it was never warm enough, and partly because this style of dress just didn't fit with her life behind the bar in Ballykissangel. But it was incredibly sunny this week, she wasn't in Ballykissangel, and Henrie was absolutely adamant that 'Uncle Peter will like this dress the best'. And so she bought it.

After they had succeeded in finding Henrie the perfect purple princess dress with yellow daisies and a hair clip to match, the girls decided to reward themselves with an icecream. Sitting down on a bench outside the icecream parlour, Henrie told Assumpta that she'd had the best afternoon ever.  
'It's so much fun to do girl things. I don't have any girls in my family at all now. Well, I have a cousin called Trinity, but she lives really far away. Daddy tries to do girl things with me. He even painted my nails.'  
Henrie held up her purple and green nails to show Assumpta.  
'But I don't think he likes it very much.'  
'I'm sure that's not true,' said Assumpta. 'Your daddy loves spending time with you.'  
'He doesn't like shopping.'  
'No... I've never met a boy who likes shopping.'

Henrie licked her icecream thoughtfully.  
'If you get married to my Uncle Peter, will you be in my family?'  
A little taken aback by the question, Assumpta answered, 'Well, um, yes. I'd be your aunt.'  
'Oh.'  
Henrie took another lick of her icecream.  
'Are you?'  
'Am I what?'  
'Going to get married to Uncle Peter?'  
Assumpta laughed awkwardly.  
'Well, that sort of depends on whether he asks me to.'  
'If he asks you, will you say yes?'  
Assumpta took a few moments to consider her answer.  
'Henrie, if he does ask me, and I do say yes, you'll be the first to know.'


	6. Chapter 6

_Hi! Sorry it's been a while - so many essays :( Anyway, here's the next bit. Don't ye complain now... I gave you five chapters of bliss; that's a record for me :P _

**Chapter Six**

Halfway through packing his mother's silver candlesticks safely into a box, Peter stole a sideways glance at Mark. The pair had been sitting on the living room floor in silence for several minutes, ever since they'd discovered an album of Mark's wedding photos amongst their mother's things. Mark continued to flip pensively through the album whilst Peter worked. Peter wasn't sure whether Mark wanted to talk; he wasn't sure how to go about initiating such a conversation, anyway. Talking to parishioners about their problems was easy; it was his job to talk to them, and they generally appreciated his advice. But Mark was his older brother. He looked up to Mark. What help could he possibly offer?

'Peter?' Mark spoke up, interrupting his brother's musings.  
'Yeah?'  
Mark closed the album, and placed it on the floor in front of him.  
'I just wanted to say... about Assumpta...'  
'What about her?' Peter asked, panic rising in his chest. This was not what he expected Mark to want to talk about...  
'It's just...' Mark sighed, and looked apologetically at Peter. 'Look, I know I'm an incurable flirt, right, but I need you to know that I would never... I'd never really try it on with her, you know?'  
Peter stared at his brother, taken aback by his bluntness, as Mark continued.  
'I know I've made moves on your girls before, when we were kids and all. But I can see that you really are in love with this one, aren't you?'  
Peter nodded.  
'Yeah, well,' said Mark, gazing down at the photo album, 'See, I know what it feels like to truly love someone, and to have them taken away from you. If I could get my hands on that bastard who stole away my Edith, I'd have him, you know?'  
'I know,' said Peter quietly, watching a tear streak down his brother's cheek.  
'It's funny,' continued Mark, laughing bitterly, 'Even after what she did... just walking out on me... and on _Henrie_... I still love her as much as ever. If she came through this door right now, I'd take her back straight away. No questions asked. How dumb is that?'  
'That's not dumb at all, Mark. That's love,' responded Peter.  
There was nothing, he thought, that Assumpta could ever do to make him love her any less.  
'Hmmm...' said Mark thoughtfully, 'I remember being taught in church that to love someone means choosing to love them despite all their sins and imperfections and mistakes. I think I finally understand what that means.'

Just as both men were thinking that their conversation might be getting just a little too soppy, Assumpta and Henrie crashed through the front door, arms full of shopping bags, and provided a welcome distraction,

* * *

The next few days passed quickly, with Peter and Mark busily sorting through the house. Assumpta kept offering to help, but was hardly ever allowed to. Instead, she was instructed to relax. She mostly kept Henrie occupied, and even had a couple of decent conversations with Joe. He explained that he found it really hard living with Mark and Henrie, and she told him he was welcome to come and stay at Fitzgerald's over the break, if he needed to get away. He seemed mildly pleased with the idea; he had never before been out of England.

The best part of each day, however, was when Mark and Henrie went home, and Joe disappeared up to his bedroom. Then, Peter and Assumpta could just sit or lie on the lounge, talking about everything and nothing, while he played with her hair. They talked about the past, confessing old thoughts and feelings they hadn't been able to share at the time, and they made plans for the future.

Soon enough, it was Friday afternoon, and Mark was buzzing around the place organising everything for the party. Assumpta joked that he was behaving like a bridezilla on her wedding day, and continuously referred to him as 'our social butterfly'.

Half an hour before the guests were expected to arrive, Assumpta went upstairs to get ready. After taking a shower and finishing her hair and makeup, she pulled her new dress out of its bag, in which it had been sitting under Peter's bed since the day she bought it. Holding it up in front of the mirror, Assumpta made a face. What on earth had possessed her to buy such a ridiculous dress? Why had she thought it sensible to take fashion advice from a five-year-old? She was going to look stupid in front of all Peter's friends... But there was no time now to find something else. She sighed, and resignedly dressed.

'Assumpta!' called Peter, who, after having taken three minutes to throw on some jeans and a nice shirt, was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs. His friends had already begun to arrive, and were starting to think he'd made Assumpta up.  
'I'm coming!' came the frustrated reply.  
Sighing, Peter leaned against the back of the lounge, and continued to watch the stairs for a sign of Assumpta.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of her, it was as though both his lungs had suddenly collapsed, and he'd never breathe again. As she descended the rest of the stairs, he continued to stare wordlessly and unashamedly at her. She was already the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, even in jeans and a flannelette shirt, covered in someone's spilt pint of stout... but... he had never seen so... so _much_ of her before. Assumpta's dress skimmed her figure perfectly, and stopped an inch before it even reached her knees. The colour was set perfectly against her pure white skin, and her hair, which she'd been growing longer, tumbled delightfully about her shoulders. She was, in his opinion at least, absolutely flawless.

When Peter's eyes finally reached her face, he saw that Assumpta was biting her lip apprehensively.  
'Well?' she asked impatiently, obviously unsettled by his wordless staring.  
_'Assumpta...'_ he breathed, running a strand of her hair gently through his fingers. When he reached the end of her hair, he let his hand brush lightly down her arm, and come to rest on her waist. 'You're just too good to be true.'  
Relieved, Assumpta smiled, and her shoulders relaxed as Peter pulled her into a soft but fervent kiss.

They broke apart just in time for Mark to come bumbling through with a bottle of wine on the way to the garden. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.  
'Wow,' he exclaimed.  
'Mark!'  
'Sorry,' Mark winced, actually appearing genuinely apologetic.  
'Come on outside,' he said to Assumpta, 'You're what everyone's come to see, after all!'  
'Oh, don't say that,' she whined, completely mortified, as Mark headed away out the back door.  
'Come on, you,' Peter said, taking her hand and leading her outside.

Assumpta was dragged around to meet all the Cliffords' closest friends. She was sure they all seemed nice enough, though she could barely remember any of their names. She kept a tight grip on Peter's hand as they made the rounds. It was only when they settled into a longer conversation with Peter's best friend Jack and his wife that Assumpta finally felt comfortable enough to let his hand go.

It wasn't long at all before Jack suggested they make use of the goals still set up in the garden, and nearly all the men present quickly divided themselves into two teams. Peter disappeared into the house, and quickly returned clutching a football and wearing his boots and a huge grin. Assumpta stood by to watch with Jack's wife Sarah and the illustrious Laura Brennan, who, to Assumpta's relief, was happily married to a banker named Sam.

Assumpta found the game highly entertaining, not least because Peter had this pathetically cute habit of looking her way every time he made some mildly impressive move, to make sure she had seen it and was duly amazed. When he finally kicked the winning goal for his team (Middlesbrough, naturally), he came running in her direction. Slowly dawned the realisation that he probably intended to pick her up and spin her around, in celebration of his victory. She held out her hands to stop him.  
'Oh, no, no, no. You're all filthy and dirty!'  
Peter glanced down at his muddied clothes, looking exaggeratedly crestfallen. His friends began to rally around him, booing and shouting 'Oh come on!' 'He just won the game!' 'Give the guy a break!'  
Assumpta kept her eyes on Peter, who gave her a rather impressive look of pleading. Rolling her eyes, but unable to keep a smile from her face, she stepped forward, steadied herself with a hand on Peter's shoulder, stood on her toes, and reached up to kiss him. His friends jostled and cheered, then went back to their beers.

As Peter was heading back inside to change his clothes, he caught sight of something that made his heart sink. He quickly grabbed Mark's sleeve as he walked past.  
'What's she doing here?' Peter whispered, indicating with a jerk of his head to the woman standing by the gate.  
Mark looked over and shrugged.  
'I didn't invite her. She must've heard about it from someone else...'  
Peter brought his hand to his mouth in panicked exasperation.  
'Listen, Mark, you can't let her near Assumpta.'  
'What? Why?'  
'Please, just promise me you'll keep them away from each other.'  
'Yeah, okay...'  
'I'll be back in a minute.'

Mark began making his way over to Assumpta, but was distracted by the sight of Henrie running off down the road after a dog someone had brought to the party.  
'Henrietta! Get back here!' he shouted, running off after her.

No sooner had he gone than Assumpta looked over her shoulder and saw the woman standing alone by the gate. She hesitated a moment before going over to her. It was no great secret that Assumpta didn't like this woman, but, she could imagine how it would feel to be in her position, and she felt a surge of pity.

'Hi Jenny.'  
Jenny didn't reply. Assumpta sighed. This was going to be more awkward than she'd thought...  
'How are you?' she tried again.  
'Where is he?' asked Jenny quietly.  
'Peter? Ah, I think he just went inside for a minute.'  
'Good. I didn't come to see him. I came to see you.'  
'Me? What for?'  
'To warn you.'  
'Warn me?'  
Jenny remained silent for several moments, and Assumpta could see that she was fighting back tears.  
'What did he tell you?' Jenny blurted, 'That he loves you? That he's going to leave the priesthood for you? But let me guess – you haven't seen any real evidence of it?'  
Assumpta stared silently at her.  
Jenny laughed cynically.  
'What? Did you think you were the first? Why do you think he left here and went to Ireland in the first place?'  
Assumpta continued to stare. An internal battle was raging between her desire to believe in Peter and her deep-running insecurity.  
'Has he taken you to bed yet?'  
_'Excuse me?'_  
'Has he taken you to bed?'  
'That's none of your business.'  
'That'll be a yes then,' stated Jenny, folding her arms across her chest. 'Good, isn't he?'  
'What?' said Assumpta quietly, feeling as if she might be sick.  
'I said he's good. Even when he was here for the funeral... It's a good thing _I_ was there to provide the comfort he needed... But then he just ran off on me again, back to you. But rest assured, sweetheart, he'll get bored of you soon enough.'

Assumpta heard the back door swing closed behind her. Tears welling in her eyes and a stabbing pain in her abdomen, she turned around to see Peter staring, red faced, in their direction. Without a word, she turned and ran, out the gate and down the street.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Peter sprinted over to where Jenny was standing with a triumphant smile on her face.  
'What did you say to her?' he spat angrily.  
Without waiting for an answer, he ran off down the street after Assumpta. It wasn't difficult to catch up with her, as her heels were slowing her down.  
'Assumpta!' he called as he gained on her, but she strode on determinedly.  
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she wrenched it away. He raced around in front of her, and seized her by both arms. She struggled against his strong grip.  
'Get your hands off me! Let me go!'  
'Assumpta, please... I can explain.'  
'Oh, I'm sure you can,' shouted Assumpta, determined to look anywhere but Peter's face as her angry tears defiantly fell, 'You can explain your way out of anything, can't you? You treat us like we're nothing, nothing but some evil temptation to be overcome; you make us feel guilty as hell while we wait around for you to decide whether we're worth the risk; then you just explain yourself away with your beautiful words and your big, deep eyes and your empty promises. And we just melt, and we do whatever you want. Then you get bored and move on to the next girl. Is that it, Peter? Is that how your little game works?'  
_'No,_ Assumpta, I -'  
'Like a sailor, right? A girl in every parish? Keeps you busy, I suppose.'  
Every word from her mouth was like a nail being hammered into his heart. He struggled desperately to find something to do or say to reassure her.  
'Assumpta, that's not what it's like. I would never do that. You _know_ me.'  
For the first time, she looked up into his face, her eyes dark with anger and hurt.  
She said simply, 'I thought I did', and she finally escaped from his hold, and continued down the street.

Distraught, Peter made to chase after her again, but a strong hand on his shoulder held him back. He turned to see Mark standing next to him, staring sombrely after Assumpta.  
'Let her go.'  
'I can't,' said Peter, his voice cracking as he fought back terrified tears.  
'Just give her a little time,' said Mark softly, leading Peter back to the house.

* * *

Assumpta, having no idea where to go or what to do, continued walking aimlessly until her shoes began to give her blisters. She deserved it, she thought. She was simply furious at herself for not seeing this coming. How had she allowed herself to be so blinded by her feelings for this man that she fooled herself into thinking he was any different from the rest? The evidence was right in front of her all along, ever since Jenny came to Ballykissangel. You wouldn't just leave home and travel to another country for a guy if there was nothing going on! He had made Jenny think that he loved her, and then he'd just left.

And not just that... he'd gone back to her, only – what? – three weeks ago? While Assumpta had been sitting at home in Ireland worrying about him, wishing she could be there to hold his hand as he said goodbye to his mother, he had been here... doing _that_ with _her. _Horrible images kept appearing in Assumpta's mind... images of Peter holding, kissing, whispering to this other woman. She wondered if he'd played with Jenny's hair the way he did with hers. The thought made her so furious that she kicked a telephone pole in anger, and swore loudly when it absolutely killed her toe.

As it got later, Assumpta knew she needed to find somewhere to spend the night, but she didn't have any money with her – all her stuff remained back at the house. She came across a quaint little B&B, and decided to try her luck. The elderly man behind the counter only needed one look at the beautiful girl in the pretty dress with mascara staining her blotchy red cheeks to know that she really needed a place to stay. And, as she walked off toward the room he'd offered her on credit, he called after her, 'Miss Fitzgerald?'  
She turned around. The old man hesitated for a moment before saying gently, 'Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you'.  
Assumpta smiled sadly, and headed to her room for an extremely restless night's sleep.

* * *

When Assumpta woke the next morning to strange surroundings, it took her a few moments to remember where she was, and, when the events of the previous day came flooding back to her, she wished that she could be swallowed up by the pile of blankets and simply cease to exist. Now used to having Peter's arms for comfort, her heart just didn't understand why she couldn't go to him to make everything better. Assumpta allowed fresh tears to fall as she scolded herself for wishing he were there to hold her.

When she had managed to compose herself, she took a shower, dressed again in the ridiculous dress that Peter had loved so much, and went downstairs to beg the use of the old man's phone. She called the airline, and managed to book herself a flight to Dublin for that day. The earlier flights being ridiculously expensive at such late notice, she had to take one that left at 11pm. What she would do with herself until then, she had no idea, but she wanted to get out of Manchester as quickly as possible.

There was, of course, the matter of her things. Bandages on her blistered toes, she walked to Mark's house to ask for help.  
'Assumpta,' he said with a half-genuine smile as he opened the door. He did not invite her inside, but continued to talk to her on the doorstep. 'Are you okay? Peter's been worried sick about you. He said you had no money with you.'  
'I'm fine. I found somewhere to stay.'  
'That's not very safe.'  
'I'm a big girl, Mark.'  
'Right.'  
'Look, will you do me a favour?'  
'What favour?'  
'Will you go to your mum's and get my stuff? I've got to get to London for my flight.'  
'Flight? You're leaving?'  
'Well, yeah.'  
Mark sighed.  
'Don't you think you're overreacting, Assumpta? You haven't even given him a chance to explain.'  
'I'm not interested in what he has to say right now.'  
'He never wanted to hurt you,' Mark said quietly, giving an excellent impression of Peter's pleading eyes.  
Assumpta clenched her fists. 'Are you going to help me or not?'  
Mark raised his eyebrows defiantly. 'You're a big girl, Assumpta. Do it yourself. And, while you're there, _talk_ to him.'  
Assumpta grunted angrily and stamped her foot as Mark retreated back inside and closed the door.

As she walked back toward the gate, Assumpta saw a little blonde head pop up from behind a bush in the garden.  
'Henrie, were you hiding there the whole time?'  
Nodding, Henrie strode over to Assumpta, hands on her hips, and demanded, 'Why are you grumpy with my Uncle Peter? Why are you going home?'  
Assumpta sighed, knowing this might be breaking Henrie's heart almost as much as her own. 'Your Uncle Peter did something that upset me very much,' she said gently.  
'What did he do?'  
'That's not for you to know, Henrie.'  
Looking up at Assumpta's face, and squinting against the morning sun, Henrie said, 'But Jesus says we should forgive those who sin against us...'  
Her heart melting, Assumpta kneeled down to kiss the littlest Clifford on the forehead.  
'No matter what happens, Henrie, I'll always be your friend. I'll come back and visit you, and, when I do, we'll get the world's biggest icecreams, with chocolate chips and whipped cream on top.'  
'Promise?'  
'I promise.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Sitting atop his Middlesbrough bedspread, Peter absentmindedly played with a small, brown teddy bear wearing a black T-shirt and a plaid bow-tie. Bernard, being almost twenty years old, was looking rather tattered, and the fur around his ears had nearly all worn away. When Peter had first discovered the bear, during a blissful half-hour he'd spent whispering to Assumpta as she fell asleep, he had playfully teased her about it; imagine, big bad Assumpta Fitzgerald, who could make grown men quake in their boots with one ferocious glance, sleeping cuddled up to a wee brown bear...

But she had told him Bernard's story – the story of how her father had given her the bear shortly before he died, when she was not six years old. The gruff publican, rendered less burly by his illness, had known he couldn't always be there to protect his little girl. He'd promised her that Bernard would always be there for her in the scary times to come, that he'd given the bear the special job of looking after his princess until they met again in heaven. Assumpta never travelled without Bernard, though she normally kept him hidden. That she had been willing to share this story with Peter had set his heart aglow, and, as he'd leaned down to kiss a very sleepy Assumpta on the forehead, he knew that he'd been let into a part of her life which she kept safely shut away from everyone else.

Now, a small sob escaped him as he held the little bear to his own broad chest. He wondered if Assumpta would ever let him that far into her heart again... Or had he torn her trust completely?

At the faint sound of knocking, Peter threw Bernard aside and hurtled down the stairs. He threw open the door, and there she was. Exhausted, red-faced and angry, in no makeup and yesterday's clothes, she looked a mess – a beautiful mess, but a mess all the same. And it killed Peter to know that he'd made that mess. He so desperately wanted to just draw her into his arms. Surely, if he could just hold her, everything would magically be all right. But the look on her face made it very clear that this would be an unwelcome move. Still, he couldn't resist reaching for a strand of her hair as he breathed, 'Assumpta... I'm so glad you're okay.'  
She pulled away from his touch, and his heart sank. Touching her hair had never, ever failed to soften her before. She barged past him, thought the door.  
'Where were you?' he asked desperately, as he followed her into the kitchen, 'I was worried about you.'  
Tilting her head to one side, Assumpta fixed Peter with an icy glare.  
'Well, if you were that upset, I'm sure Jenny would have been only too happy to come and _provide the comfort you needed.'_  
Peter winced. 'Assumpta -'  
'Save your words for someone who'll believe them, Peter.'  
She picked up the phone, and started dialling.  
'What are you doing?'  
'Calling a taxi.'  
'You don't need a taxi.'  
But she ignored him, and ordered a cab to the train station for as soon as possible.

After hanging up, Assumpta sped straight upstairs before Peter had the chance to open his mouth again. In Peter's childhood bedroom, she stuffed her things hastily into her suitcase. Lifting Bernard from the bed, she gave him a tight squeeze before throwing him into the bag. The last thing she did was change her clothes, leaving her stupid party dress crumpled on the floor by Peter's bed.

When she and her bags reached the bottom of the stairs, Peter was there waiting.  
'Assumpta, don't go,' he begged, knowing, but not caring, how pathetic he sounded.  
'Get out of my way.'  
'You're blowing this way out of proportion.'  
'You betrayed me!' She spat, her bags dropping to the floor with a crash.  
'We weren't even together then!'  
'Oh, and I suppose that's okay then, is it? Because we weren't 'together' then?' Assumpta dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand; she had promised herself not to let him see her cry. 'What about all those things you said about loving me from the beginning?'  
'I did love you fr... Assumpta, this isn't fair! You don't see me kicking up a fuss because you slept with Leo!'  
'That was different. I didn't keep that from you.'  
'Oh, no, instead you flaunted it in front of my face – much kinder, thank you!'

Peter knew, of course, that firing her up was not the way to fix things between them, but the whole situation was so frustrating, and he couldn't contain his emotions any longer. Assumpta looked as if she were about to hit him. When she next spoke, she found herself shouting up at him. 'It was different, Peter, because I couldn't have you. But you could have had me any time you wanted. Just one word, one look, and I would have been yours. But you chose to have her instead.'  
'I didn't choose to have her instead!' Eyes closed, Peter rubbed his temples. 'I... I had just lost me mum, Assumpta, and I was trying to hold everyone else together, because that's my job, you know? But how was I supposed to do that when I couldn't even keep myself from falling apart? Everything in my life was a grey, hazy blur. I could barely see two feet in front of my face. And I wanted you, I did,' he promised, looking down at her in tearful desperation, 'I wanted you so badly, but I didn't know what you were thinking, or what was going on with Leo, or whether this whole thing with us had only been in my head from the beginning or what. I was scared and hurt and confused...'  
'So you decided to have sex with that horrible cow to make yourself feel better?'  
'Assumpta, I just – wait, _what?_ You think I slept with her?'

Assumpta rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest.  
'Oh, _please_, Peter. Don't you think it's a little late to start playing dumb?'  
Peter's heart raced, pumping exhilaration through his veins. He couldn't get these words, these saving words, out quickly enough.  
'No, no, Assumpta; I only kissed her!'

Peter held his breath, waiting for her to speak, hoping against hope that this would be enough, that she'd simply melt into his arms, laughing that it was all a misunderstanding. But she was too far gone.  
'You only kissed her?'  
'Yeah. Well, I mean, she kissed me... and I kissed her back. But not for long! It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds, I swear.'  
Assumpta, knowing just exactly what Peter could do to a girl in twenty seconds of kissing, did not take much comfort in this.  
'So, you see?' Peter offered weakly, 'It was all just a misunderstanding.'

Scoffing indignantly, Assumpta glared at him, her icy expression returning to replace the perplexed one she had worn a moment ago. And she was shouting again. 'You think this changes anything? It doesn't change the fact that you went to her instead of me; it doesn't change the fact that you lied to me; and it doesn't change the fact that you made her think you loved her until you got bored of her and moved on to me, and that it's only a matter of time until you dump me for some blonde from a parish in frigging Cornwall.'  
'If that were true, if I really were that person – which you _know _I'm not - don't you think I would just let you walk out of here without even trying to stop you?'  
'Maybe you should.'  
'I _love_ you, Assumpta! I'm leaving the priesthood for you!'  
'Is that what you told her?'

Peter slammed his fist into the door frame, making Assumpta jump.  
'You are being ridiculous!'  
'And on that note,' she said quietly, 'my taxi is here.'  
Afraid his outburst had frightened her, Peter let Assumpta move past him toward the front door. He even reached over her to open the door, because her arms were full of luggage. But, as she went to step outside, he spoke once more.  
'Don't do this, Assumpta.'  
And something about the softness of his words, whispered almost into her hair as he stood behind her in the doorway, simply arrested her, and she couldn't move. She didn't have the strength.

'Don't walk out on me, on everything we have, because of this. I love you, and I know you love me. And we've been happy, haven't we? These last weeks... We've been as happy as the stars are bright, Assumpta Fitzgerald, and it's been incredible. After all that, after everything we've been through to get here, are you just gonna throw it all away because of one stupid mistake and a thing I had with a girl before I even met you? Are you gonna leave me out in the cold to freeze again?'

Assumpta bit her lip, breathing hard, staring ahead at the taxi waiting on the street. Her stubbornness and anger were at war with her ever-present longing and the truth of Peter's words...

The taxi driver honked his horn, and the harsh sound cut like a sword through Peter's shaky hold on Assumpta. She did not look back at Peter as she dragged her bags toward the cab, but she thought she heard the wind carry the sound of a defeated 'Fine' and the clicking of the lock on the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

****_I'm so sorry this story has taken me so long to finish :/ But I'm on holidays now... So, if I write another story - which is certainly within the realm of possibility - it should be updated far more frequently! Anyway, here's the end ;)_

**Chapter Nine**

Spending an entire evening in an airport awaiting an 11pm flight gave one a lot of time to think - too much time, Assumpta thought, especially when trying to hide from one's problems. She'd bought a book, three trashy magazines and a copious amount of junk food, but nothing could serve to distract her for long. Slumping down in her grey plastic chair, she sulkily tossed away the rubbish from the family sized bag of peanut m&ms which had miserably failed to quell the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She closed her eyes and succumbed to the thoughts which had been crowding in on her mind for hours.

The scene from that morning, at Peter's mother's house... She remembered every single word. They were permanently etched onto her brain like a tattoo, and she couldn't scrub them off, no matter how she tried. Thinking of them, she felt her face burning red.

Her own voice rang in her ears, _"You betrayed me"._ That part was fair, she told herself; as far as she knew at the time, he had betrayed her. But then... Assumpta bit her lip as she recalled Peter's face, his big eyes so hopeful when he told her that it had all been a misunderstanding. He had never slept with Jenny.

The jealous bitch had cooked up that story to tear them apart, so she could have Peter to herself. _Well played, Jenny,_ Assumpta thought resentfully, _It looks like you've won._

Yes, Jenny had won. Assumpta had walked out on Peter, left him behind, exhausted and all out of words.  
It was his words that echoed in her head now.  
_"I love you, Assumpta."  
"Don't do this, Assumpta."  
"We've been as happy as the stars are bright..."  
_'As happy as the stars are bright.' Assumpta smiled sadly. Such a typically, beautifully Peter thing to say.

But had she listened?

No. She had continued to storm and shout, in perfect Assumpta fashion, professing feelings and thoughts which were not her own. Did she really believe that she was nothing more than another notch on Peter's belt? Another toy to be thrown away when he got bored? Of course not. If she was honest with herself, she had never believed that, not even for a second. She had feared it, yes, but never truly believed it.

But she couldn't just tell him that. She couldn't just let him win. She was angry and worked up and _stubborn_, and she had to fight. Besides, she reasoned with herself, he had still wronged her. He had kissed Jenny, and he'd kept it from her.

More words replayed in her mind – Henrie's simple statement.  
_"Jesus says we should forgive those who sin against us."_

How was it, Assumpta wondered, that a five-year-old seemed to understand more about love than she did? Wasn't that love, after all? Looking past the stupid mistakes, the thoughtless words, the past... forgiving.

_Okay, okay._

Assumpta ripped open a packet of crisps and began stuffing them into her mouth, hoping the action would make her remorseful tears forget to fall.

So she should have forgiven him.

She almost had. She had been so close to surrendering to his whispered pleas... But she was Assumpta. She had to fight; she had to storm off. Didn't he understand that?

As Assumpta looked around at her cold, white surroundings, a memory tugged at her heart. The last time they had been in an airport... the coffee, the muffin... the overwhelming feeling of security as she'd realised how perfectly Peter knew her. If he knew her so well, why hadn't he come after her? Why hadn't he known that she'd only left because she wanted him to chase her, to fight for her just a little longer? Why had he just given up, watched her go with a defeated _"Fine"_?

Maybe it was silly; maybe it was childish; but there it was. She needed him to come after her, to prove his love. Stupidly, she looked around her, thinking he might come running through the airport like Hugh Grant in some Richard Curtis film. But this was life. He didn't come.

When it was finally time to board the plane, Assumpta did so with a heavy heart and a bellyache from too much comfort food. Her seatbelt clicked at the same time as the realisation that her obstinate, dramatic ways had gone and cost her the one real thing she'd ever known. The middle-aged businessman in the next seat shifted uncomfortably, as Assumpta leaned her head against the window and at last began to cry.

* * *

Stepping off the plane in Dublin, the air was cold. Assumpta's half-dried tears stung her face in the icy breeze. She felt gross in her jeans and flannelette shirt, all crumpled from the waiting and the flight. She stared self-consciously ahead as she entered the terminal, trying not to see the other passengers' joyful reunions with their loved ones.

Shifting to avoid the affectionate scenes all around her, Assumpta's tired and awkward gaze eventually fell on a lone figure standing apart from the rest. He was wearing jeans, a navy knitted jumper, and a nervous, crooked smile.

He was holding a takeaway cup of coffee and a white paper bag.

Assumpta dropped her hand luggage and ran at Peter with such fervour that she actually launched into the air. He had to let the coffee and muffin fall to the ground so that he might catch her. With her arms around his neck, his tightly around her waist, and her feet still not touching the floor, they clung to one another. The knots in Assumpta's stomach turned to butterflies as she breathed in Peter's comforting scent through his jumper.  
'You came,' she mumbled softly into his chest.  
'Of course I came,' Peter replied, setting her down on her feet.

He stepped back, taking her face in his hands.  
'I hate to break it to you, Assumpta Fitzgerald, but I am never going to let you go.'  
He ran his fingers through her hair, and was so thankful to see her smile in response.  
Assumpta looked up into his eyes, and said earnestly, 'I'm sorry, Peter'.  
'I'm sorry too.'  
A smile flashed in Assumpta's eyes as she thought of Henrie, of love, of all that she had to learn.  
'Well, I forgive you,' she said steadily.  
Peter brought his forehead to rest on hers.  
'I love you,' he whispered.  
'I know you do,' she assured him.

And he kissed her softly, and he took her home.

* * *

Mark's booming voice carried up the stairs.

'Henrie!'

Carefully laying down her storybook so as not to lose the page, Henrie sighed. Personally, she wouldn't mind all the interruptions, but Johann the bear was growing rather impatient to hear the end of the tale she was reading to him.

'Yeah?' she called back.  
'Telephone!'

Leaving Johann to learn a lesson in patience, an intrigued Henrie thundered down the stairs. Taking the receiver from her father's hand, she asked, 'Who is it?'  
'You'll see,' said Mark, smiling.

'Hello, Henrietta speaking.'  
'Hi, Henrie.'  
'Assumpta!' she squealed.

'How would you like to be a flower girl?'

The End


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